It was Dusk, light fell for black to paint the skies in broad strokes covering the sun’s warmth. One last match, Gunhild and Halle fought with armour on as practice. They moved clockwise, their footwork akin to dancing providing each other opportunities to grab.

Both donned hauberks, riveted chainmail that reached from shoulder to knee. Blows and strikes thrown as feints to grasp at the other opponent’s limbs. Maneuvering themselves inside and out of their reach. One moment of flawed hesitation was all it took to wrestle someone to the ground.

Forest's winds trailed against hands that leapt to grab. Pivoting on his back foot, Halle managed to grasp onto Gunhild’s waist to perform a glima throw with force rather than technique.

Halle, a man who weighed many pounds more than Gunhild held an advantage in strength, but she had her ways of winning.

She rotated her hips, positioning herself so both of them would fall at the same time. Gunhild was like a spider able to crawl past Halle’s throw.

Both fell onto the soil full of flourishing grass at the same time. During a glima match when both fell, the winner would be considered by whoever wrestled to their feet the fastest. There were many variations to glima matches, this was one of their own rules Halle and Gunhild made over the past decade of wrestling.

They sensed each other out on the floor feeling at the grips placed on either, under shoulders or hip. Halle’s fingers slipped on Gunhild as she thrust her shoulder into his chest to stand.

Struggling back on two feet staring down on the miserable Halle frowning with displeasure. She said with laboured breaths, “Had enough?”

“Six to four.”

“To my way.” Gunhild offered a hand for Halle to stand up.

“It’s easier for you to wrestle your way up.”

“Blame yourself for having large muscles and not being lighter.”

“If l had the frame of Agneli, l might win more against you.”

“You would lose more if you did, your large frame is the reason why l have to resort to making both of us fall at the same time.” Gunhild wiped at the sweat dripping on her brow. “I see you haven’t grown lazy this past winter.”

“For someone who wishes to become the greatest warrior, l need more—”

“Strength and speed you have. It is diligence you need for technique, you are too aggressive.”

Halle nodded.

“You would win though if we were to wrestle to whoever gave up first.” Gunhild’s muscles ached, sore from facing a beast masked in human skin.

“In a battle though, it matters who is thrown to the ground first and who can pull at their daggers to stab through the visor. Underneath the helmet or armour’s weak points,” Halle replied.

“That is true, but what has caused you to become more aggressive. It is not like you to throw technique to the depths of Hel.”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

Shaking her head, she could not help but worry. “Come anytime you wish, you need to be prepared for the battle to England.”

Halle teased, “Gunhild worrying about me? That is a first.”

“It is not a first for me as well to hit you,” she threatened with a raised fist. “You should get going, it’s late.”

The sun leisurely fell as they spoke.

“Didn’t you say I could come anytime?”

“That doesn’t mean you can stay forever. I’m tired unless you want to talk.” Gunhild was concerned about Halle.

She sensed something was not right about him, but couldn’t go any further as he stopped her queries.

“No, I’m fine. Sorry for taking up most of your time.”

“Thank me instead, you look pitiful when you say sorry.”

“Is that so, then thank you.”

“The son of a jarl really listened to me. Now there’s really something wrong with you.”

Halle laughed but seeing Gunhild so serious he paused. “An Ulfhednar can truly sense everything.”

His lips curved upwards. “I won’t be bothering you any longer.”

“You’re not a bother."

Halle left with not another word, waving as he left the woods. He was friends with Gunhild, yet he did not share everything with her. Ulfhednars had too many secrets and it was not his place to ask them for answers. Neither should he burden Gunhild with his pathetic thoughts.

Trees could see the man stumble in his steps, a path that he should’ve easily trudged through with ease. Thoughts weighing more than armour, his legs felt like they were both walking with two left feet.

Halle’s expression frowned more than the branches that scrunched in twirls with arms twisting the longer they were. A stray wolf peered at the man, before deciding to escape to find easier prey. It felt it would die if it attacked even in ambush against this predator.

Alone and as Gunhild had said. Miserable. Halle should have been jumping about, whistling with raised cheeks beaming with every step after kissing Jehanne. But the more he thought, the more his worries thrived and the more his nightmares daunted on him.

He found himself at a door, his legs carried him to where his closest friend lived, someone who’d shown his pain and seen Halle’s pain. Beating his clenched fist, ‘lightly’ onto the door or what he considered to be quiet.

Agneli was about to shout. He halted seeing Halle's sour expression that was so down it could reach the dirt floor.

He offered a mug of ale.

Law for every household to brew beer in Noreg for the winter solace, in order to celebrate in the name of the Norse gods. Tradition as well to offer beer to welcomed guests.

Downing the ale in one go, gulping till his throat burned of alcohol. Halle did not speak, Agneli did not question it and gave his friend more as he drank with him.

Ulfberht was sleeping, snoring in peace as the two men drank ale as if it did not scorch their gullets.

“It’s a first for you to offer ale to me.” Halle stared at the mug thinking it couldn’t be real.

“It is Noreg’s custom, is it not?”

“It is, but l can’t remember the last time you did this for me.”

“You come too often that’s why.” Agneli’s eyes widened seeing Halle down the mug and refilling it. “Stop you fish, you are not drinking water.”

Placing his hand over the top of the mug, Halle shrugged it off flushed red.

“Do not stop me Agneli.”

Halle downed another and another till his mug was stained of ale.

“What has gotten you in such a poor mood?” Agneli inquired.

Halle spoke his mind truthfully, “I am worried.”

“About the battle to England? You should have told me earlier, l was planning to leave for Normandy and then Francia.”

“Normandy? Where the Normans live?” It was a first for Halle to hear Agneli's plan.

“...Yes, l would have left with Ulfberht so l can learn more from him. I was going to tell you later, but it seems I’ll have to wait for your return.”

“You mean steal his techniques,” Halle laughed

“Does it matter? l just need to fulfil our promise of me being the best blacksmith of all the lands and trust me l will. I am a man of my word.”

“I envy that.”

“What me becoming the best blacksmith,” Agneli jested.

“No, you being a man of your word.” Halle spun the mug of ale lightly in his hand seeing the swashing beer whirl in circles.

“I often say I'm honourable, that Norsemen who go out to sea are noble like the heroes from sagas we hear as children.”

Agneli did not deny it.

“Traders are good men. Not me, not those who go on vikings, Arne was right.”

“Arne? The Dane you mentioned when you came back from your viking.”

“Yes him.” Halle sighed, “We’re monsters, murderers. The many Noreg traders do more good for the lands than the few Norsemen warriors.”

“I do not know about the traders or Norsemen warriors you speak of, as l haven’t ventured through the seas as much as you. But I don’t believe a monster can feel remorse. l have seen you cry first hand and save someone.”

“Sometimes I forget l can even cry. Wait...who are you speaking of that l saved?”

“Me.” Agneli stared deep into his mug of ale.

“l did not care for my life when I first met you.” Agneli stared across the table meeting Halle’s gaze.

“I tried to garner your anger as a child. Get you to punish me and maybe in revenge l would try to kill you before being put to death. But you gave me a chance at life making me a freedman.”

Halle sighed, “Agneli I’ve killed good men, bad men, innocent men, a boy.”

“What’s new? Your father planned the vikings, people conquer and people die. Stop complaining. Besides the child you killed was when you were a boy as well and he insulted your mother.”

“It doesn’t make it any less bad.”

Agneli pointed down to the table. “The fact that you’re here grovelling means you ain’t a monster Halle.”

“Aren’t l? I’ve forgotten all their faces, even the boy l killed.” Halle’s persona of being an undefeatable man was cracking. Fears began to conquer him.

“You never worried about this before, what’s changed that?”

“I had a nightmare that l was sleeping with Jehanne.”

“I would consider that to be a pleasant dream.” Agneli peered at Halle.

“That is not the point.” Halle’s brooding eyes copied the cloudless skies.

Agneli could not wrap his head around Halle’s discouraging matter.

“Then is the point, the fact that you are in love with her?”

“If l were to love her, would she come to love a man who’s a monster? A demon like the Christians speak of.”

Halle drank his mug empty. “In my dream, l killed her and she screamed each time l caused pain but I didn't stop. So many men pleaded to me before their deaths like Jehanne in that nightmare. How could she ever come to love me?”

For those that surrendered he spared their lives but only those who gave up early. Halle could not accept their requests to yield during a fight as he may risk his own life if he stopped the swing of his blade. But what mattered most, it was his choice to bring the sword down or let it hover above their throat.

Agneli peacefully drank his mug empty. “So?”

“Are you even listening?” Halle wanted to throw his drink at Agneli hearing him say ‘so?’.

“I am. If you think she can’t love you then I’ll make sure she loves me instead.”

“This isn’t time for jokes.”

“I’m not.” Agneli did not escape Halle’s piercing glare that could stab through him.

“You were serious back then?” Halle questioned, remembering Agneli’s prior words that he thought to be mocking him.

“Yes.” Agneli refilled his mug empty of ale. “You came to the wrong person asking an enemy to tell you how to win Jehanne’s heart.”

“You—”

“If it should be anyone asking, it should be me questioning you how to steal Jehanne’s heart. She is already in love with you.”

“What?” Halle’s anger froze like ice.

“Is it not obvious?” Agneli stared at his friend as if he were a stone wall denser than iron.

Halle thought back on the kiss they shared that still lingered on his lips. Her words to her actions.

“Whether you’re a monster or not, she is blinded by love.”

“She won’t be blind enough to miss my crimes,” Halle replied in kind saddened.

“Everyone has committed a crime," Agneli said. "People who have done nothing wrong bear other wrongdoer’s crimes and some who have done wrong are not questioned."

Growing more frustrated at Halle with this conversation. Agneli slammed his mug down letting ale spill.

"That is what I've learnt after murdering my father. Understand Halle, you are no different to me. If both of us are monsters than everyone else is as well.”

“You killed your father who abandoned you to bear his wrongs, that is not a crime.”

“Is it not? Was my anger worth taking his life when he could have repented?”

“You’ve been listening to Jehanne too much with her values.”

“Maybe so.” Agneli slowly sipped at his mug. “But l think it is you that may become a full Christian before me.”

Halle’s brows creased into a frown. “Agneli I've killed more men than you can count the stars in one night.”

“What do you wish to hear from me then, to confirm you are a monster or that you are not?”

“I do not know. l don’t know. I just don’t know.” Halle’s azure eyes under his blonde hair tainted with soil from sparring Gunhild sought an answer that could not be found or spoken in words.

He sighed, “I don’t even know if I truly love her.”

Questions to answer a question, Agneli asked.

“Do you stare at her every time she smiles? Do you laugh when she laughs? Do you find yourself always walking beside her?”

“Yes,” Halle confirmed.

“Then you are in love as much as l am. Do not waver in faith or I’ll bring her back to Francia, not here where thralls are treated worse than animals. Even if you treat her well, someone else will not.”

Halle did not respond nor did Agneli speak. The blacksmith poured more ale into his friend’s mug. Halle stopped him. He felt his stomach was churning from all the beer he drank.

“A man who can’t handle his ale, such a shame,” Agneli chuckled.

If Ulfberht wasn’t sleeping and heard his words he would have scowled at the lies, claiming Agneli to be the one who couldn’t handle his ale.

“For a woman like Jehanne. Of course, she would have two men chasing after her,” Agneli stated.

Halle laughed, nodding his head dozing in and out.

Sour face vanished, Halle's worries he held were no longer as heavy as he thought to be. He still did not have answers to all his questions but he found some of them for himself.

Halle exclaimed, “l won’t give up on her just because you like her!”

“Same for me!” Agneli retorted.

Halle stood at the door as he was leaving. The drunk warrior clasped arms with his decade-old friend. “I won’t lose to someone who has the head of a boar.”

Agneli flushed cheeks raised smiling. “l won’t lose to someone with the brains of a rock who thinks they’re a monster but needs to be consoled like a child.”

“You rat!”

“Pig!”

“Dumb horse.”

“Slow-witted cow.”

Their curses to each other slurred and in the end they embraced each other with knowing friendship that would eclipse any struggles.

“Be gone you raven starver,” Agneli said.

(Raven starver meant coward in the times of Old West Norse.)

“Shut up. I’m leaving you, temptress of ale.”

“First of all l am not a woman, second of all you stole all my ale by drinking it.”

Halle could still hear Agneli’s complaints as he dragged his legs away from the door, strolling within the night back home.

“Fool. You should have not helped me nor wait for me to go to Francia. I will come back as the greatest warrior who conquered England.” Halle grinned stupidly.

As much as Agneli screamed, he’d smoothed out the bumps of many issues deep into the murky depths of his mind. Halle planned to tell Agneli that he should not wait for his return.

He appreciated his friend’s care for him, they were like brothers to each other—drunk brothers, as one walked on unstable legs and the other slept on the table snoring.

The night was long. Longer than his stroll out that had gone from the woods to the town, to a small patch of Blue Anemone flowers that bloomed all year round. Petals matching the skin of blueberries thinly spread out, the bud within the middle stood tall. Darker. Catching any eye that glanced upon it. A flower of trust, gifted to someone you love, respect, or someone you were dying to see.

Almost as if by fate as he walked back to the manor, Jehanne stood at the front of the jarl’s house, home to also Halle.

Blue Anemone in hand. He clutched to it gently with a fast-beating heart, no matter her answer he would take it in great strides. He may fail. He may waver. He may lose. The one thing he would not do is give up, even if on forbidden love.

Smelling at the flower’s aroma of sweet love. Infatuated with not the Blue Anemone, but the woman waiting to greet him at the manor’s door. He wanted nothing more than to hear her raspy tone. Yet something was amiss. The more he stepped closer to the manor’s door, Halle saw the eyes and lips of Jehanne sewn with woe.

“Master,” Jehanne said. Offering a bowl of water bowing as she lowered her head staring at the floor.

Sobering up in an instant, the sudden word thundered in his ear. Why did she call him master? Halle thought.

“Thank you…” Something was astray here and Halle did not know what it was.

“Why are you here?”

He asked, hiding the bouquet of flowers behind his back.

“I was ordered to stand here until you arrived, master.”

“Jehanne?”

“Please refer to me as thrall, master.”

“Jehanne we’re alone, you’re safe.”

“I was never safe,” She said under her breath.

It did not pass Halle’s ears though.

“What is this about you not being safe?”

“Master. If you could please use the bowl of water so l can put it away.”

“Jehanne that doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me!” She yelled in the dead of night.

“Jehanne what's—” Interrupted a second time, Jehanne spoke.

“I’m sorry for shouting at master, you may punish me as you like. But please use this bowl of water to clean your face.” Her words were tired, more exhausted than Halle had been after sparring Gunhild.

Hearing the request a second time and not wanting to anger Jehanne any further he did so as asked. Washing his face and cleaning his beard into the bowl of clean water.

He could not even catch the sight of her face when he finished, as she turned her back to him. Cleaning the bowl, Halle watched her do so waiting and waiting.

“Master you do not need to stand there and l will no longer be sleeping in your quarters.”

“Wait what is this about, why the sudden change?”

“It is not sudden master, as I am a thrall.”

“Thralls are allowed to sleep with their master.”

“Then do you wish to sleep with me master?”

Halle blushed thinking something he shouldn’t be, “I…”

“It is of my choice master, but if you so wish l will—”

“No, it’s fine do as you please.” Halle threw his hands up gesturing it was ok.

Jehanne bowed again. “Thank you, master.”

She left Halle in shambles. In hand, blue flowers with tinges of purple looked to be like poison blemishing the petals in steep misery. The night felt as if it would not end even if he slept. A nightmare he’d awaken from just for him to fall into another, Jehanne’s stoic expression colder than winter’s fiercest snowstorms could give someone frostbite. The man in question did not know what he did wrong.

The question laid in not what he did wrong, but what awakened Jehanne from her blindness of love. Someone of power and who knew pain deeper than the burrows worms dug underneath plentiful soil.

Halle gently laid dying flowers onto a table, he’d missed his chance to give them to Jehanne. It no longer breathed air with its roots ripped from the ground. The Blue Anemone’s pitiful life was to decay and die.

Clutching at his pouch of Hampr given to him by the shaman, he threw a few leaves into the burning Soapstone oil lamp. Smoke incensed the air, raising quietly into Halle’s nose to smell a plant’s breath of lulling scent.

He slept peacefully escaping the real world, which he’d hoped to be a nightmare, for it pained him to imagine one where Jehanne hated him.

When Halle arose from his sleep before he met the shaman. Before he met Agneli. Before he met a woman's cold eyes. Jehanne pretended to be still asleep, blushing with red ears remembering the enticing kiss that seduced her to kiss back. She awaited for Halle to leave the room, he looked to be sweating quite badly and in a rush to venture out.

Jehanne touched at her warm cheeks, then her thin lips that’d met with Halle’s tongue whispering the language of love. She never experienced such a kiss like Halle’s let alone a kiss itself. Kisses to her were fleeting, never lasting but within those seconds with him, it felt eternal matching an immortal-moment.

Scared. Happy. Subtle feelings congested into one large bloated stomach that was warm, fuzzy and full of butterflies.

Halle, the son of a jarl had kissed her and she'd enjoyed it. She’d desired it, wanted it more now. The taste of taboo rolled on her tongue, caressed her lips and was addictive, as such things were. The more you want something that is harder to reach, the higher you try to jump. But she did not know if she would fall and splatter like eggs against a rock.

The morning in Jehanne’s mind was crowded with faltering beliefs, her love was true but her faith said it was wrong for a woman to meet someone as sinful as Halle. He’d done all the sins as if it were a checklist ticking them all off from bottom to top. Steal, murder and harming innocent lives, could she love him?

Jehanne was almost ready to confess her love that’d been brewing within her for the past summer and winter. But a cross stopped her, staring at the small lump of iron shaped into what represented the cross that Jesus was crucified on for all the sins of mankind. Jehanne prayed to it from morning to night whenever she had the time.

She’d asked Agneli to make it and Jehanne thought he would refuse as he was a pagan, not of Christian faith. He’d made it immediately. It shocked her further that he asked more about her religion, willing to listen.

She questioned if he believed in her god and Agneli answered with, “Your god is just another one to me, we Norsemen have many. Another won’t change anything if l believe it. Besides I’m planning on properly converting when l reach the lands of Normandy.”

She leapt holding his hands happy to hear he was willing to convert for hell would not take his soul. They soon began discussing the many tales of the bible and Ulfberht joined in sometimes, as a third Christian follower.

“For Christ also died for sins once for all, the just for the unjust, so that he might bring us to God,” She’d said to Agneli.

The words reached into the pits of Agneli’s heart caved with many tunnels, none letting anyone enter so easily.

When she left finishing her daily job of translating, a lighter weight was on her shoulders. If Agneli could convert then so could Halle, she would not force it upon him as Jehanne knew she was fantasizing too many steps ahead. For goodness sake, she didn’t even know if the kiss was within the spur of the moment.

Waiting for Halle to come back home from wherever he went, Jehanne was asked by the house servant Tove to clean the Jarl’s study room.

“Thrall, scrub away every inch and speck of dust within that room. Do not touch anything valuable or let Thor’s thunder strike upon you.”

“Yes miss Tove,” Jehanne replied. Not wanting any punishment from the Norse god of lightning.

The matter was simple, cleaning the table to the wooden floorboards, she was already used to it. Jehanne entered the room after being searched by the guard of Erik Tokesson, Trygve. The same man who’d treated her and Agneli as nothing but rubbish lower than scraps of food once.

He groped at her chest and she shuddered back ready to defend herself until he stopped, opening the door. “You may enter.”

His crafty smile was that of the devil, yielding serpent eyes slithering with deceit. She wanted nothing more than to hurry up cleaning and to leave Trygve’s presence that watched her every move.

Scrubbing at the wooden floors, the walls to nooks and corners that were collecting dust. She’d cleaned everything with a rag that was now darker than mud covered in filth.

“Thrall, continue to do your work. I’ll be relieving myself for a moment.” Jehanne understood that in truth it meant he was going to empty his bowels of waste.

Humming a lovely tune that her father had often sung to her, Jehanne’s soothing voice echoed the melody of fresh flowers blossoming for nature to sing.

Another clean rag in hand, she moved onto the wall that hung with a broken blade wielding a secured hilt. It connected to a small shard of steel that reached to the length of Jehanne’s pinky. A spear laid on the other side of the wall and it caught her eyes as written on it was Halle’s name. Touching the weapon’s carved wooden shaft marked with the familiar name, Jehanne had a boiling urge to drag her fingers down the runes.

Her hand hovered in the air, she hesitated to remember Tove’s words but no one was watching Jehanne. She reached out—

“What are you doing thrall?!”

Erik Tokesson’s face was a livid red.

“You dare!” He practically frothed at the mouth, spitting saliva everywhere.

”You dare to try and touch my wife’s spear that even l do not touch. TRYGVE!”

“Yes, Jarl?” Trygve rushed with his trousers nearly falling down, he ran into the study room as fast as he could.

“Was it not meant to be you watching over this thrall clean? I remember specifically ordering no one to touch the valuables.”

“Yes, Jarl you are correct!”

“Then you deserve a punishment as well.”

Trygve gulped.

“Yes Jarl, l deserve to be punished.”

“You will earn my forgiveness after punishing her. Understood?”

“Yes, Jarl!” Trygve shouted.

Trygve took Jehanne into a barn where her screams would be silenced with animal noises. Erik Tokesson watched on with fuming irises. “Make sure she cries for mercy, beat it into her that she should know her place before l make you learn your's Trygve.”

“Yes, Jarl!” He repeated.

Dread was all that was read on Jehanne’s face. No one would save her, she was fated to be punished as a thrall. Not a lover of a noble, but a slave who may die from infectious wounds if not treated.

A world of pain was coming to Jehanne hurled with cackling whips that slashed across her bare body. Stripped of all her clothes in a barn surrounded by animals fenced in, while Trygve lusted to give her more than a beating.

Bindings of rope held Jehanne down to a wall, where straw lay beneath her knees. Chest exposed raw from cutting wounds. Similar to the Blue Anemone flowers, bruises of dark purple stretched across her frame as she was beaten to near death. Her face was all that remained untouched.

Howling screams echoing terror and the sharp licks of a whip onto her limbs. Erik Tokesson watched the torture humming a song his past lover, Gertrude used to sing.

‘I dreamed a dream last night of silk and fair furs, of a pillow so deep and soft, a peace with no disturbance.’

Jehanne screamed till she passed out.

‘And in the dream, I saw as though through a dirty window the whole ill-fated human race, a different fear upon each face.’

She awoke to meet the smiling face of Trygve and the stare of Erik Tokesson masked with disdain.

‘The number of their worries grow and with them the number of their solutions but the answer is often a heavier burden, even when the question hurts to bear.’

The once humble trader now thrall had found her heart beating fast for a man, but now answers rang for her prior questions to whether she could love Halle.

‘As I was able to sleep just as well, I thought that would be best to rest myself here on fine fur and forget everyone else.’

Passing out again from the torture of flogging, Jehanne cried until the tears dried upon her face.

‘Peace, if it is to be found, is where one is furthest from the human noise and walling oneself around, can have a dream of silk and fine furs.’

Jehanne dreamt of pain in shackles that restrained her, agony drove itself into the hollow shell of her former self. Answers given to her by striking whips slashing air. She was a thrall. Halle was the son of a Jarl. No place in her heart for a man born from such a monster as Erik Tokesson.

A hypocrite she was, but could you blame her as Jehanne glared into the eyes of a demon. The woman had once said to Agneli, ‘The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the sins of the father.’

Jehanne could not help and hate Erik Tokesson, then Halle. Then the entire world as her innocent young love crumpled before the face of demise. Humiliated. A husk of a woman met torture worse than Agneli’s when he was a thrall.

She begged for Jesus to save her, pleaded to anyone who could hear, even to the Norse gods. Forsaken and bleeding down her thighs as well as her arms with piss between her legs. God did not exist to Jehanne at this moment for wrath replaced love. Now she knew the true taste of the forbidden fruit; bloody and ripened with anguish, unbearable anguish.